Waterbed
by Nathan Alexander
Summary: House gets Wilson that waterbed he's always wanted... and we ignore the second half of "Living the Dream" 4.14. No real spoilers. Very light House/Wilson, mostly silly. T for language.


**Waterbed**

_House gets Wilson that waterbed he's always wanted…_

_And we ignore the fact that Wilson bought it in the episode._

"You son of a bitch."

"What? You _said_..."

"And you said it was stupid!"

"Do I ever mean what I say?"

"…Shut up, House."

The two men stood in the doorway of House's bedroom, staring at the naked mattress that replaced the old creaky thing that had been in place since before House had even moved in. Wilson's jaw was struggling to close as his gaze remained firmly fixed on that quivering mass of mostly water…

"I can't believe it."

"I didn't expect you to."

"But it- why- what is your _problem_?"

"Bum leg."

"Oh, shut _up_, House."

It still wasn't quite registering in Wilson's brain that House had bought a _waterbed_. With the intent of sleeping _with him_. Sharing was on the grumpy doctor's mind.

Sharing!? Dr. House, of all people, _sharing_?

"So… what are you going to do with it?"

"What do people normally do with beds, Wilson?"

"Well, I mean… you're not _keeping_ it."

"Of course I am. I'm going to dress it up and take it out for playdates with the other water beds."

"House, _shut up_."

The oncologist ran a hand through his dark hair and shook his head slowly, still trying to process the information. Unable to think of anything else, he trudged to the bed and sat on the wobbling surface.

"So what, you want to give it a test run?"

"…What on _earth_ do you mean by that?"

"I mean… well, _The L Word_ is on tonight, and then… bedtime. Right?"

"I think you're misunderstanding the goal of this bed."

"_Shut up, House._"

House laughed – one of his genuine laughs, the ones Wilson had missed so much lately. Why couldn't he always laugh like that? Was the oncologist doing something wrong? Was House more miserable…?

"So if I'm misunderstanding the goal, what the hell is the goal?"

"To sleep."

"That's what I thought."

"No, that's not what you thought. If _The L Word_ has anything to do with your explanation for the presence of this bed, you have completely misunderstood its purpose."

"…shut up, House."

The older doctor leaned his cane against the wall by his door and limped to the bed, taking a seat by Wilson. He was comfortably close; the younger man could feel his warmth and smell… hand lotion?

"…Is that _hand lotion_ I smell?"

"Could be, if you play your cards right."

"And you said I misunderstood the purpose of the bed."

"You did. What you may not have misunderstood is the purpose of _The L Word_…"

"God, House, shut _up_."

That was odd. Wilson could have sworn House wasn't that close when he first sat down. A strange fluttering sensation stirred somewhere between his stomach and his knees. It was awkward, but not in a sense where he felt… embarrassed… just unfulfilled.

"Are we even watching TV tonight?"

"Nope."

"So, just sleeping, then?"

"No, we're having wild, sweaty sex. Mind if I invite Cameron?"

"House, _shut up_. Please."

The diagnostician stretched carefully along the mattress, though his legs still hung off the front. He grabbed on to the upper end of the bed and pulled himself up completely. Wilson followed suit hesitantly, then looked around.

"Blankets?"

"When we have each other, we don't need blankets for warmth."

"I'm not spooning with you."

"Aww, I'm so disappointed."

"_Shut up, House._"

The two doctors lay in silence for some time before House managed to fall asleep. Wilson shifted repeatedly, trying to get comfortable, but couldn't get any rest at all. He hated this waterbed…

It was nearly midnight when he stood up and meandered to the living room, claiming the floor with a cushion from the couch and a spare blanket he'd discovered under the older man's bed. Not too long later, though, he found himself joined by the hobbling doctor himself.

"What're you doing?"

"You got up. I thought I'd join you."

"What about your leg?"

"Fuck my leg."

House set down his cane and settled himself next to his younger companion, sharing the wide territory of the couch cushion and the decent width of the blanket. Some part of the oncologist was overjoyed at the company, feeling strangely giddy.

"Goodnight, House…"

"Hey, Wilson?"

"…Yeah?"

"Livin' the dream."

"Oh, for pity's… Shut. Up."


End file.
